


I Make The Moves Up As I Go

by stepquietly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth Jones: awesome hockey player, super awkward teenager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Make The Moves Up As I Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohtempora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohtempora/gifts).



> Big thanks to my betas. Fills the prompt: Seth Jones/Roman Josi, during the Flyers game, 116 games of NHL experience
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, ohtempora.

The game’s already fucked by the time Shea goes down, and then it’s even more fucked.

Seth didn’t see it happen but the stiff way Shea skates off the ice pretty much says everything he needs to know. He only has a couple of seconds to worry about whether or not Shea’s going to be okay to play before Barry is yelling at them all to get into it, and then there’s really no time to think about anything else.

By the time they get to the end of the second, they’ve still got nothing on the board and the pressure to push back is starting to feel unbearable. It’s pretty evident from Barry’s angry resignation that Shea’s not making it back on the ice tonight, and Seth can’t stop his heart rabbiting in his chest. It’s just one more shitty thing in a game that seems filled with shitty things, but the team’s already struggling this season, and this feels like the icing on a really messed up cake.

Marek’s silent in his corner, vibrating with nerves. Across the room, Roman’s face is locked down, no real expression making its way through. Seth closes his eyes and tries to focus as well, shove away everything but what he needs for the game.

The coaches run them through plays and where they need to buckle down, and Seth tries to pay attention. They’re changing plans up so he and Ryan can pick up the slack, switch off with Roman when they need to, push back against everything the Oilers are throwing at them. And then the break’s over and they go back out to do it all again.

* * *

 

 _i think sum1 put a curse on your team_ , Justin texts him that night.

Seth snorts. It’s really not out of the realm of possibility. He’s trying to figure out what to type back when his phone beeps with another message, this one from the team. _Weber out on injuries_ , it says. _Unlikely to play on Sat_.

Seth stares at it for what feels like forever, trying to get it to not say what it says. First Pekka, then Kevin, and now Shea. It’s already starting to feel like they can’t catch a break, and they’re only a couple of months into the season. With Shea out now, it’s him and Ryan out in front. And Roman. Anyone else they get, they’re gonna have to work around.

He sighs. _how do you break a curse???_ , he texts Justin.

There’s a long wait during which Seth gets ready for bed, gets the bedspread off and shoves the comforter way down to the bottom of the bed so it doesn’t tangle in his legs. Game nights always leave him slightly too hot at the start and then cold by the end, so he strips off his shirt but leaves it on his nightstand in case he wants it later.

By the time his phone beeps he’s settled against the pillows, trying to figure out a way to get his back not to crick in that weird way it sometimes does post-game.

 _say bloody mary in the mirror 3 times_ , the text reads, and Seth grimaces. That fucking joke is never going to get old as far as Justin’s concerned, and Seth could really do without being reminded of that particular childhood memory.

 _u suck_ , he sends back, and then turns his phone off for the night.

* * *

 

Friday’s practice is rough. They’ve got Joe and Mattias up from the Admirals to try and fill the gaps in their defense, but the hole Shea normally fills is probably visible from space. Barry and Phil keep switching the lines up as they try to figure out what works best. It’s clear they want someone with at least a little experience out on the ice in every shift, but that isn’t really working out. Most of the guys on the ice right now shoot on their left and don’t have enough experience to try switching over, not in time for tomorrow’s game anyway.

Seth’s never been so glad that he shoots right, and that Barry and Phil have spent all that time figuring out ways for him to be comfortable if he needs to shoot left. That said, getting to play his natural position again feels like releasing a breath he’d been holding in for way too long; he doesn’t have to second guess himself, doesn’t have to shift the puck around himself to get the right angle on it. It sucks that Shea and Kevin have to be gone for him to get to do this, but things are what they are, and there’s a ball of panic and nerves mixed up in excitement in his stomach.

Practice runs long, and Seth’s feeling a bit stretched thin by the time they get to go shower and change.

“Hey, rookie,” he hears, and Seth turns before he processes that it’s Barry calling Joe over to go over his stuff on the screens.

“Right,” he whispers to himself. He’s not the rookie right now. He’s probably one of the more experienced D-men on the ice right now. Which is really a trip and a half.

He finishes showering as quickly as he can and gathers his stuff up in preparation for heading out. His mom’s promised to come get him after practice today so he needs to hurry; if she ends up coming to look for him, the guys will probably try to get her to tell them more embarrassing stories about when he was a kid, and that’s the last thing Seth needs in his life. Last time she even kissed his cheek, and Mike spent weeks after that teasing him, ‘little man’-ing him and telling him to “take better care of himself”, the dick. Seth doesn’t want a repeat; not if he can help it. His mom’s got baby pictures and she’s not afraid to show them.

He’s almost home free when he sees Roman. Roman, who’s just sitting there, still wrapped in his towel, with his head in his hands. Seth has a second where he wonders whether there’s some sort of wait for the showers before he processes that Roman’s hair is wet and he doesn’t smell terrible, so he’s probably already post-shower.

“Hey, man,” Seth says, tentative. He doesn’t really want to bother Roman if he’s just grabbing a moment or something, but he doesn’t exactly want to leave someone looking upset like that. Seth isn’t that guy. “Hey,” he repeats, “Roman? You okay?”

Roman jerks his head up, startled. Then, as he sees that it’s just Seth, he takes a deep breath, the inhale and exhale loud enough that Seth can hear it even over the sound of guys talking in the shower, discussing the game tomorrow.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Roman says, rubbing tiredly at an eye, mouth pinched tight. “Just a bit worried about tomorrow.” He shrugs and squares his shoulders. Seth watches water from his hair drip slowly down along his neck, a few puddling in the curve of his collarbone. It’s oddly hypnotic.

“It’ll be okay,” Seth offers, unable to tear his eyes away from the way the hollow of Roman’s collarbone is slowly filling. He knows it sounds stupid even as he says it but he doesn’t really have anything else to offer. He desperately wrenches his eyes away and tries to think of something else to say something more helpful, except all he can come up with is, “You’re awesome.”

And then Seth maybe wants to die a little. Who even needs his mom around to embarrass him when he’s like this? Ugh.

But Roman’s mouth quirks, eyes crinkling at the edges while Seth’s cheeks fill with heat. Seth got a steady internal prayer going that Roman hasn’t noticed how distracting Seth finds his wet everything and also that his skin is making it really hard to tell that he’s blushing, but from the way Roman’s mouth is spreading into a smirk, God’s probably fucking him over right about now.

Miraculously though, all Roman says is, “Thanks, man.”

Seth takes it for the kindness it is and books it before anything worse happens.

* * *

 

“Seth?” his mom asks him when he hurriedly gestures at her to open the trunk so he can dumps his bag in. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, and shoves his gear in before coming round the side to get in the front.

She snorts. “You’re all flushed and acting jittery.” She eyes him closely and Seth curses his hormones and her weird mom senses. “You look all jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” he insists. Jumpily. Damn it.

“Riiiiight,” she drawls out as she starts the car. “Honey, I’m almost sure we’ve had this talk but sometimes stress makes people make bad decisi –”

“I’m not doing drugs!” Seth groans. “I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” his mom accepts after a quick look over at him to check whether he’s telling the truth or not. Seth meets her eyes without worry. She nods, then turns her eyes back to the road. “Then what is it?”

Seth thinks of all the various excuses he could make – locker room pranks, stuff with the team, Roman’s wet hair already pushed away from his eyes, the cut of muscle along his arms and chest – and goes with discretion as the better part of valour. “It’s personal, mom.”

She hums at him, and keeps her attention focused on the traffic, waits to make a left at the next intersection. “How personal are we talking here? Should I worry?”

“No!” Seth insists, feeling hunted. The only thing worse that Roman noticing Seth checking him out would probably be talking to his mom about it. “It’s really personal,” he says, practically begging. “I really, _really_ don’t want to talk about it.”

Which, shit, is like a neon sign that this is about Very Private Matters. “Oh,” his mom says, amused understanding colouring her voice, “like that is it? Okay then, honey.” Seth almost thinks he’s home free but then she says, pointedly careful, “Be safe.”

“Ugh,” he groans and covers his face. Not for the first time Seth thinks that he really needs to move out. The two years he’s promised to live with her seem like forever after conversations like this one, and he would really like to never have discussions like this again. Like, ever.

Eventually though, after the silence has gone on long enough to be comfortable again, he relaxes into his seat, crosses his arms over his chest and turns his head to watch the city fly past.

* * *

 

He’s keyed up by the time they have dinner that night. It’s the usual day-before-a-game nerves, made way bigger than usual by the fact that he’s going to be out there way more than usual. He can’t seem to shut off the thoughts. They’re not going to have Shea on the ice and that’s going to hurt. Mike’ll be around to pick up some of that slack, take charge of the team, but it’s not quite the same. Plus, Roman’s going to have to carry some of Shea’s weight when it comes to defense and that’s not going to be easy at all. Seth’s around to help, but he’s not going to kid himself; there’s only going to be so much he and Ryan or any of the other guys can do.

He’s preoccupied as he helps his mom serve up plates, dishes himself a large helping of the chicken casserole before he passes it over. She says grace, and then Seth focuses on eating and not thinking for a while.

“So, how was practice?” she asks as she cuts her chicken into slices and then automatically transfers half of them onto Seth’s plate.

Seth nods. “Okay.” He pauses to scoop up some of the slippery pasta shells and get them to his mouth. He gestures with his empty fork, “Sort of busy because now Shea’s out too.”

She nods, gestures at him to take more of the vegetables. “How is the team doing without him?”

Seth shrugs. “Okay, I guess? I mean, Barry’s got a plan and there’s guys from the AHL, but nothing major. And they’re letting me play right.”

“That’s good.”

Seth nods, his eyes on his plate. He thinks about earlier today, when Roman had been sitting alone with his head in his hands. “It’s worse for Roman,” he finds himself saying, “I mean, he’s been here the longest out of the new guys, so.” He shrugs. “I don’t think it’s that easy for him.”

She looks closely at him. “And that bothers you?” There’s a hint of amusement creeping into her voice and her eyes and Seth feels awkward and young all over again.

He scowls at her, and she holds her hands up. “Okay,” she says, “this is me leaving it alone.”

And then his mom does that thing that he loves her for; lets him have his space and doesn’t force him to respond, just fills in the silence with news about her day, calls she had to make and clients that are giving her trouble. It’s the sort of patter that’s about touching base and letting him know that she’s got stuff on, that things are all right. It’s nice to listen to her day, to think about her being happy with her job and settled out here. Like a reminder that there’s life outside of the ice that’s waiting for him tomorrow when he comes home.

Later, after he’s helped her put away the leftovers and load the dishwasher, she runs her hand over the back of his head absent-mindedly, and Seth ducks away from under it, flustered to still have his mom do this stuff, and escapes up to his room.

 _moms embarrassing_ , he texts Justin and Caleb, _b glad ur not here_.

He flops back onto his bed, suddenly exhausted with the way the nerves are still singing under his skin. Tomorrow feels like everything, and at the same time it’s not even the playoffs, but playing this way, without half the safety nets he’s had on the ice, is gonna be different. Every time he thinks about it his stomach wanders so one minute he feels like he’s super excited and the next he’s one step from shitting himself.

And then there’s the whole thing with Roman today. Roman, who’s carrying the whole team with Mike. Roman, who totally saw him looking and didn’t tell him off or anything. Seth groans and covers his face with his hands because there’s awkward and there’s _awkward_ and this is just _so damn awkward_ even if Roman is probably totally used to people perving on him. Seth doesn’t usually do that, or doesn’t it do it quite so obviously, or so _badly_. Fuck.

He turns and buries his face in his pillow, hates himself a little for how he’s already begun to firm up again in his shorts, like just thinking of Roman has his dick up and ready. Seth flops onto his back, frustrated by everything. He huffs out a long breath, then thinks _fuck it_ before he slides a hand down into his boxers and lets himself think of it all. The game tomorrow. Roman, wet and golden. Roman smirking back at him, except not because he caught Seth looking but because Seth was saying something super smooth. Something like, ‘I’ve got your back’ or ‘I’m here for you,’ but like, sexier. Yeah, okay, that works. He imagines Roman looking at him after he says that, the same smile, hand working his cock. Roman’s mouth, pink and smiling.

“Shit, yeah,” he mutters, hoarse, and then comes, short jerks of his cock messing up his boxers. He pulls his hand out of his boxers and wipes it off on them, wipes some off on his shirt. He ignores the way his dick is sliding against the still warm come and cotton, and spreads his legs, stretches himself out until he feels good, and then settles into a comfortable position.

Except there’s only one way this scenario is going to play out if he falls asleep now, and the last thing he wants is his mom seeing his jizzed up boxers in the laundry hamper tomorrow.

Seth groans and shoves himself upright, stumbles into the bathroom and strips off his boxers to soak them in the sink.

He really, _really_ needs to move out.

His phone beeps with a text from Caleb.

 _Way ahead of you bro_.

Seth stares at the phone screen for probably way too long, just thinking about it. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he opens up a new message and types out ‘ _Good luck tomorrow_ ’ taking care to properly punctuate and everything, and then sends it to Roman. Then he goes to find himself some fresh shorts.

He’s just pulling them on when his phone buzzes again.

 _u2 :)_ , it says.

* * *

 

At the end of it all, Saturday’s game is sort of amazing and horrible.

Seth’s on the ice for a lot of it, and the puck’s all over the place. The Flyers seem just as confused as they are because fuck a duck, their defence actually seems to be working. It’s not perfect, and Marek’s let one in, but Mason’s let two, so it’s hardly worth crying about.

He’s got that sort of exhilarated feeling because fuck this, they’re going to win it. They are. And with half their damn team missing. It’s some sort of miracle. The sound of the fans screaming is like a drum beat under his skin, and he can see the guys on the ice picking up that energy. He cranes his neck to watch the next play, keep an eye on Joe.

“Stay focused,” Phil tells them, as Barry yells across the ice at Wilson to keep it together. “Just keep your head in the game.”

“Just do what you’re doing, Jonesy,” Matt yells over the sound of the crowd booing Coburn, thunking a fist on his shoulder. Seth just chugs his Gatorade and tries to stay in the headspace for the game.

Then it’s a changeover and he’s back up and charging up the ice with Roman, one eye on the guys between them and one on the puck.

When they lose, it’s fucking harsh. It would be one thing to lose when they’ve got nothing on the board or when they were playing like shit, but to be that fucking close and lose out to a lucky shot? On their fucking home ice? It stings.

“I’ve got some stuff we should go over,” Barry tells them later when they troop in, tired and pissed off. “But it can wait for tomorrow. You guys did a good job. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Which is probably true but still sucks.

Seth grabs his shit and heads to the locker room. There are a bunch of reporters already milling about, a couple of them asking Mike questions. He can see Josh Cooper looking around for a likely target. They’re all probably looking for Roman; it’s possible that they’ll settle for one of the other D-men, but Seth has no intention of finding out. From the excited sounds starting up behind him, they’ve probably found someone.

“Seth,” he hears Josh call out, “Any quotes about tonight? Did something ‘just kind of happen’?” There’s a bunch of laughter and cat-calls.

Seth turns back to see a bunch of cameras aimed at him. He blushes, awkwardly pleased that they know him for something, even if that something is the worst catchphrase ever. He tries to say something more quotable. “We really gave it our all and we tried to open up our game and play, and I guess it just kind of happened that it came down to that one shot and it didn’t work.” He doesn’t realise that he’s slipped up until everyone laughs and then he really wants to punch himself.

“Anyway, thanks for the support,” he offers, and flees for the showers.

He showers for as long as he can, then dresses in his suit. Most of the guys are done, and the few stragglers are clearly guys who got held back by the press. Roman’s there, stripped down to his under-armour, just sitting there, alone.

It’s like some sort of glorious repeat scenario where Seth gets to redeem himself because he finally knows exactly what he should say.

Roman looks up and says, “Hi,” sounding tired but satisfied.

“Hi,” Seth offers.

“I got your text message.” Roman strips the top of the under-armour off, and wow, there’s just miles and miles of skin there, and nipples.

“Yes,” Seth offers, dazed. Then, somewhat desperately sincere, “I’ve got your back.” Then he stops and flushes. Why? Why do these things happen to good people? Why does he say this shit?

Roman grins at him as he grabs a towel from the pile on the bench. “Good to know,” he teases, smirking like an asshole. “I like to know these things.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’m – I’m gonna go,” Seth says. He turns to head to the door, and then there’s a hand on his shoulder spinning him around.

Roman smiles at him, looking super uncomfortable as well. His cheeks are flushed and Seth can see where the flush fades into his chest, could trace it with his fingers if he wanted. Shit, he really needs to not think this stuff. It’s awkward and tight in his pants when he thinks this stuff.

“It was a good text,” Roman says. Seth nods but he clearly doesn’t get it because Roman shakes his head and repeats, “No, I mean it. It was a _good text_ ,” and then he squeezes Seth’s shoulder like – Oh! Oh. Ooh.

“Yeah,” he says. Then desperately groping for something to say, he blurts, “I liked yours too.”

Roman smiles and rolls his eyes, and then Seth laughs, can’t stop laughing because this whole thing is so ridiculous. Roman breaks after a bit and laughs with him.

“God, that was awkward,” Roman says eventually, when they both finally wind down.

Seth nods, and then, feeling really daring, puts a hand on Roman’s shoulder and squeezes as well. Roman’s eyes widen, and Seth takes a deep breath and rubs a thumb along the curve of Roman’s collarbone, dips it into the hollow behind it at Roman’s shoulder.

Then he’s fascinated, watching Roman’s skin prickle with goosebumps, his nipples tighten. “Shit,” Seth whispers, and he starts to slide his hand down to touch one.

Roman catches his hand. “Not here,” he says, and squeezes Seth hand.

“Yeah. Good idea,” Seth fumbles, “Can I call you? I’ll call you.” He starts backing away and wow, okay, Roman’s totally using that towel to hide his dick.

Roman grins at him and mimes using a phone, and Seth nods and then flees.

* * *

 

“Seth?” his mom asks him when he hurries out of the centre to the car. “Honey, it doesn’t matter that you lost. You played great.”

“Sure. I’m fine,” he says, and shoves his gear in before coming round the side to get in the front.

“Then why are you all – Oh.” His mom keeps her eyes forward and Seth cringes because these trousers don’t always cover a lot when you’re sitting.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Language,” his mom reprimands, still not looking at him.

Seth sinks down in his seat.

He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and opens up Roman’s last message, stares at it though the time his mom takes to start the car and head out of the parking lot. Then, taking a deep breath, he types out, _u wanna get dinner sumtime?_. He waits until it goes through and then re-pockets his phone.

Outside his window the city flies by. His mom hums absentmindedly as she takes the now familiar turns to get to their home.

Seth closes his eyes and feels excited, nervous. His thumb tingles like it remembers the warmth of Roman’s skin.


End file.
